


Burning Embers of a Midnight Love

by basketcasewrites



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Air catcher, Alternate Future, Alternate Universe, Bandom - Freeform, Beauty - Freeform, Breathtaking, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Emotions, Fanfic, Fanfiction, Fluffy, Growth, I wrote this for a wattpad contest and am nervous as frick, LGBT, Love, M/M, Memories, Midnight, Moon, Nostalgia, Ocean, One Shot, Pain, Poetic, Romance, Song Reference, Twenty one pilots song reference, Valentine's Day, alternate past, ethereal, i really love this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9922859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basketcasewrites/pseuds/basketcasewrites
Summary: Words often failed him,  except when he put pen to paper...In which Ryan decides that it's finally time to tell Brendon how he feels, but he has never been too good with the spoken word and knows the only way to ever get across every emotion is by writing it down.These are his words -- the pure, unedited words straight from his heart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written in Ryan's POV ... enjoy <3

Dear Brendon, 

I sit here, wind blowing my hair unruly, yet the shelter of this cove guards my eyes from the harshness of the sand.

It's terrifying how memory fades over time; tragic how fast that time passes us by. I'm pleased, though, for seeing this place again after so long brings back every beautiful memory as if it happened mere hours ago.

You're probably smiling whilst you read this, your eyes crinkling at the corners as you shake your head and remember those moments when we were younger -- how we would sneak out at the earliest hour before dawn. Telescopes in hand, marching to our cave, our hideout, keeping an eye out for pirates and other 'sea-vermin', as you liked to call them.

Everything about this morning stuns me to my core, kaleidoscope skies painted by finer artists than ever there have been over endless and depthless blue. Breathtaking. Surprising, to me, as the only thing to ever render me in such a way before has been you.

Do you remember that last time we ever came back up here together, the last time I ever travelled with you and your family? I'm sure you must -- I myself remember it much clearer than anything else and need not the sea before me to bring it back.

The ice cold of your hands as they pulled me down the steep hill, leading me in my more than half-asleep state. The path that I had assumed I could have walked even if i6 were blindfolded had me tripping over my own two feet; had it not been for your hand held firmly in mine I, without a doubt, would have gone tumbling down the hill -- would have been lost to the still, early morning darkness.

Disentangling our fingers, you ignored my every question on why our early morning had to be made even earlier, simply pulled your shirt over your head and grabbed my hand as you ran unhesitant into the sea. The freezing of the water chilled me to the bone and I would have ran out the moment the cold touched me had it, once again, not been for you firm hold on me.

I stood shell shocked, teeth chattering as I tried to adjust. But you, you shrieked at each new wave crashing against your body. Diving far beneath the surface, resurfacing breathless only to do it once more.

As much as I tried, as much as you insisted I join you, I was far more content standing barely knee deep in the water watching you be completely and utterly in your element. The fearlessness in your laugh as you danced with carefree abandonment filled me with an absolute burning I had never before experienced. 

This is why I can not ever forget that beautiful morning: you were breathtaking -- no, you were beyond breathtaking. Ethereal. And I fell hopelessly and madly in love with you.

What have I to say since: the years have passed and I have watched you slowly became less and less a child. Cherished every moment as you grew; as you flourished. 

Silly, clichéd metaphors run through my head -- a bud blossoming into a rose, a caterpillar into a butterfly. Silly, neither of these apply to you -- you have always been a rose; always been a butterfly. But these are all that come to mind right now...  
What have you done? You have my stolen my poetry and as much as I try I cannot seem to put done into words this tumultuous storm that you conjure within me. This fire that burns. A steady blooming, violent and beautiful flower. 

I had to stop writing for a second, imagining your reaction to these words. I can picture your eyes scanning over the page -- reading far too quickly in that way you do. You must either think me a fool for ever bringing this up, or a fool for not bringing this up sooner -- is it too much to say that I hope it is the latter.

I began this letter with millions of things that I wanted -- needed -- to say. I was certain that my heart would take over and words would spew forth from me as they usually do. That my hand would fly across the page, words appearing before my mind could register them. I am glad though that this is not the case: you deserve every single precious word to be carefully scribed.

I keep circling back to that time -- the one of our early morning adventure -- I remember watching you, perfectly silhouetted by the moon and the night sky. Have I already told you how stunning you were; how stunning you are? Have I told you how I would do anything to be able to tell you that you are beautiful at any time of any day -- every single day for as long as you shall have me? If I have not, I must -- for you are brilliant in your soul and I have never encountered another who is as beautiful as you.  
But I digress. To what I began saying before: that morning as I observed you this line played through my head and as much as I have tried over the years, every time I see you it comes back again and again, absolutely refusing to leave me be...

I think you could beat the moon in a pretty contest.

Without any idea from where that line came from, I am unable to disagree. Except for the fact that I don't think, I know. You, you beautifully intricate creature, are far more enchanting than the moon could ever wish to be. And the moon shall never stand a chance against you.

Admittedly, I often over complicate words and easily confuse those  with my disorderly writing. I am trying to write as clearly as possible, for the last thing I would want to do is confuse you.

If in one word I were to describe how you make me feel, it would be: treasured. As if simply with your presence you make me worthy. You make me more. 

I have not much else to say -- or rather, I have dozens upon dozens of things to say yet no idea exactly how to say it. 

How do I say that I would gladly spend the rest of eternity with you? That you could never speak another word again and I would be content with sitting in your silent company? That you could never be quiet again and I would be happy sitting in your never ending chatter?

How do I say that I would give up everything for you? That I'd give up heaven for you -- hell too, if only you asked? That I would unhesitatingly walk for all of eternity in a limitless limbo as long as I was by your side?

How do I say these things without scaring you off? How do I put this out there, completely aware that I will never be able to take them back? How do I give you my heart without even the slightest semblance of assurance that you will not completely destroy it? 

I am terrified, Bren. Terrified that you will hate me, terrified that you will hurt me, terrified that you will do neither of these things and  simply disregard me. 

I am terrified, but if I have learnt one thing in my few years alive it is that when you are most scared you should do the exact thing you fear to do. 

So, here I am.  
Going forth.  
Taking a chance.  
I am giving you my poetry -- the poetry that you have already stolen...

 

happy valentine's day,   
Ryan x


End file.
